It is in many peoples' opinions, including my own, a really ******* good show which was cancelled way to early(1 season). It's basically a space western show, where they follow a crew on a spaceship called Serenity(which is a Firefly class ship, hence the shows name). There are alot of good characters and plot lines, and the only 'ending' we got was a movie called Serenity, which is like a last episode of the series, which actually makes the ending more open for more episodes. It's on netflix if you want to give it a watch, and its pretty short(only 14 episodes and a movie)

Actually, he didn't even say fox. He just said that he'd try to find it a home. Which is exactly what he said in the dev diaries of Serenity, he told the cast that "this isn't the end - Serenity is just your port in the storm, for now" and that he was going to carry it on until he felt it'd been given justice. We're going to see another series, we just don't know when.

There is something the fox, in her ineffable silence, would never say because she, herself, is not ready to hear it. For she does not want to believe what she knows down deep in the hush of the forest of her soul to be true, and saying it—the unutterable truth that would shatter not only the tenuous musculature of her wild and untamable heart but the fragile architecture of all our hearts—speaking it would somehow make it so. So she creeps on through the bracken and the underbrush, bearing the burden of her mute denial—itself the simple act of benevolent negation by which she enables not only herself, but every last one of us to go on bearing the unbearable systolic chatter of our mundane yet ruthlessly distracted lives, which are interrupted only by the briefest diastolic silences of our increasingly rare moments of solitude. For if she were to say that which she does not say, which she must not say, the fox knows that the saying of it would bring this whole madhouse greed-gala corporate-sponsored mind-numbing soul-consuming filth fest falling down. And she does not want that crash any more than we do.

But if, in some fleeting flash of frailty, around some dark corner of her existential crisis, she were to mutter under her breath her unutterable, unendurable Truth, I assure you, it would sound nothing...
nothing...
nothing...
like that stupid pop song.